


First Date During the Germpocolypse

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Mystrade Story Times [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, COVID19, Coronavirus, First Date, Greg's an A&E doc, Grindr hookups, M/M, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, Mycroft's normal MO is 'hit it and quit it', Mystrade Story Times, Quarantine, Self-Isolating, Sexy Times, Video Chat, but the pandemic derailed that, do not copy to another site, oh no feelings!, originally posted on twitter, sing songs: theyyyy're gonnnna faaaall in looooooove, so he had to get to know silver foxy Greg, social distancing, they doin' it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Normally Mycroft Holmes EXCELS at self-isolating. He INVENTED social distancing. But for sex he makes an exception and chooses thirsty hos from Grindr for a one and done. His latest swipe right, Greg, doesn't even get that close to the British Government. When the virus throws everything into chaos, both men find themselves on the frontlines--and their 'date' shelved. But Greg's persistent, and actually yanno, wants to get to know Mycroft. They end up having a 'first date' via video chat. The first of many, if Greg has his way...
Relationships: Mycroft/Greg, Mystrade - Relationship
Series: Mystrade Story Times [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335472
Comments: 84
Kudos: 188
Collections: Mystrade StoryTime





	1. Video Call

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Twitter. Minor edits made for changes in platform restrictions. We do #MystradeStoryTime there semi-frequently, come find us! Follow me @savvyblunders

Self-isolation and social distancing were current buzzwords, given the perilous state of the world at this particular moment in time. For Mycroft, they had always been his norm. Aside from his sweaty teens, and his awkward, horny early twenties, Mycroft was a natural introvert. His position within the government, _as_ the government, led to this as a matter of fact. It had never been an issue. It wouldn't be an issue now, except that today was to have been his long-awaited 'first date' with the insanely gorgeous silver fox he'd been flirting with via text.

Although Mycroft eschewed dating, he wasn't adverse to indulging his sexual needs. Grindr was his preferred method of finding likeminded men in search of fun. It was always lighthearted. Mycroft would, at most, wine and dine them, they would retire to a hotel room, fuck like particularly horny rabbits, and part ways amicably. He'd never had a particular desire to find a long-term partner or see any of his hook-ups a second time. Greg, the silver fox in question, didn't even get a chance to get _that_ far. Which was criminal, as he was insanely, ridiculously, unfairly hot. Mycroft knew the man was well out of his league, yet the fool didn't seem to see it. He'd flirted outrageously, teasing, funny and witty. Mycroft had enjoyed their chats immensely, and each delay only wetted his appetite. Sadly, between his job, the state of the world, and Greg's position as an A&E doctor, each attempt to meet up had been side-lined each and every time. It had been weeks now, and they'd not actually met in person once.

If Mycroft had been any other man, he'd have considered that they were practically dating. Which was ludicrous. He didn't date. But they had a standing appointment to chat now, and they texted at odd hours. Greg, on the front lines in the hospital, wasn't able to meet with him. Mycroft, on the front lines--and behind the lines--of the government's response (or lack thereof) to the situation, had accepted that they'd never meet. Greg, however, had not. Somehow, a minor miracle, they'd both carved matching time out of their insane lives to have a video chat. Mycroft had seen plenty of pictures of Greg. Both those on his profile and those that he wasn't _technically_ supposed to have. He'd not seen him 'face to face' like this.

The state of his nerves was silly. He routinely faced down megamaniacal politicians and world leaders. He made life or death decisions affecting the fate of the nation. He nannied _Sherlock_ for god's sake. Yet the mere thought of seeing Greg in 'real time' had his heart fluttering. Part of it was vanity. He knew he projected an aura of power, privilege and breeding which many found arousing. His physical appearance wasn't geared towards the thirsty crowds who used the app, however, and Mycroft was well aware that he wasn't traditionally attractive. Greg, bless him, had said several times that Mycroft was 'just his type.' Probably a kindly meant lie, but he let it soothe him as he straightened his tie and pressed the button.

Greg was even more glorious than his pictures promised. Seeing him animated, smiling, sent a tingle straight through Mycroft. "Mycroft!" His grin was brilliant despite the shadows under his eyes. Greg was wearing wrinkled scrubs and looked to be sitting in a supply closet. "God, I'm so glad this is finally happening! I've been dreading some disaster coming along to cock this up!"

"I know just what you mean," Mycroft agreed, smiling helplessly in response to Greg's eagerness. It warmed him to his toes to be the object of such delight. "I was ready to throttle the next person who brought me a disaster to be sorted."

Greg ran a hand through his hair, forcing it into even more disarray. Mycroft's fingers itched to smooth the strands. "Right? Jesus, what an arsehole of a month this has been."

"I'd like to have strong words with a number of individuals," Mycroft agreed, relaxing a little. Greg was so _easy,_ as if they were old friends. A good deal of his nervousness receded. "Actually I'd like to lock them all together in a room, let the virus sort them out."

Greg laughed, "God, can we?" They smiled at one another. "Can't believe I'm finally seeing you," he said, voice softening. His eyes were huge, liquid velvet depths Mycroft could drown in. "This isn't how I wanted our first date to go, admittedly. But," he brightened, "This way we can get all the initial awkwardness out of the way for next time."

Next time. Mycroft didn't _do_ next times. Yet here he was, desperately looking forward to it. "We have to reserve some mystery for our second date," he teased, relishing the brightness in Greg's gaze. "I don't want you to grow bored of me before we've even met."

Greg bit his lip, looking down, lashes shading his eyes. Looking back up from under them to devastating effect, he murmured, "Not sure I could get bored of you..." Mycroft was at a loss for words. A banging on Greg's end made him jump. The door slightly visible in one corner of his screen shuddered, "Greg! Wake up, mate, we need you!" Mycroft wanted to cry.Greg did too, if his face was any indication. He slumped, eyes closing, "Fuck," he said softly. He opened his eyes, finding Mycroft's, "Mycroft, I'm _so_ sorry. I really wanted more time with you--"

Mycroft found fortitude from somewhere deep inside, "Go," he urged softly, "You're needed there. We can talk again. And soon, when this is all over, we can meet in person."

Greg gave him a grateful smile, "You're an angel, you know that? I hope you're ready for some close personal contact when this is all over, cuz I wanna give you the biggest hug."

"I suspect our hug shall exceed all decorous bounds for length and enthusiasm," Mycroft grinned. He softened, "Go, save lives. I'll talk to you soon. And Greg--"

Greg paused, pulling his hand back, "Yeah?"

"Get some sleep, please. Even super heroes need rest."

Greg's eyes were bright, his smile soft, "You too, Myc...the world needs men like you more than ever." He hesitated, torn, "Goodbye."

"Not 'goodbye'," Mycroft corrected, "Just goodnight. For now."

"Goodnight," Greg blew him a kiss, and the screen went black.

Heart lighter than it had been in some time, Mycroft blew a kiss back. "Until we meet," he whispered, and closed the connection. For a few minutes he let himself sit and mourn the missed opportunity. Then he gathered his composure, stood, and straightened his waistcoat. Pulling files toward him, he raised his voice, "Anthea, bring your laptop and fresh tea. We've damage to mitigate..." He thought of Greg, so brave and selfless, "Actually, my dear. Rest your feet. I'll fetch the tea."


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Myc finally get that dinner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the enthusiasm over this one-shot and the requests for more. I've answered the call, hope this pleases :)

Greg normally kept up with his flat himself, but given the shitshow the world had been for the last few months, he had opted to hire a cleaner. Not only did it mean his flat was really, really clean--like, freakishly clean, who knew his kitchen grout was white?!--but he had also stimulated the economy.  _ Well done me, _ he patted himself on the back, and because he was drying off from his luxuriously long bath, he patted the rest of his body down with the towel (so fluffy! so fragrant!) and then stood naked in front of the basin, shaving with care. He felt bad making a mess, so when he was done he scrubbed the basin until it gleamed. 

The careful application of product, deodorant and aftershave had him feeling fine, and Greg shimmied down the hall to his bedroom. His best date outfit wasn’t really amazing enough for Myc, but it would have to do. Greg pulled on snug black briefs--yowza!--his most flattering dark navy trousers, a pale pink button-down with a contrasting floral collar and cuffs. Magenta socks, black Italian loafers, his good watch, the heavy silver ring that had belonged to his granddad and he was ready.  _ Lookin’ good, Lestrade! Phrwoar! _

Slapping a few mints in his freshly brushed and swished mouth, Greg picked up his wallet, mobile and keys, before he hurried into his kitchen to make sure the bottle of red wine was still on the counter where he’d left it. Check! A bottle of white chilling in the fridge next to the fresh fruit, cheesecake and the cheeky fixings for breakfast which he had optimistically laid in. Check! Not that Greg was planning on Mycroft coming back here after dinner, or that he’d stay. But...a bloke would be pretty shoddy if he didn’t make the effort to be able to take care of his fella the best he could, right? Right!

This was just dinner. A long-deferred, long-awaited date. Face to face! Greg grinned happily, shrugging into his jacket, and picked up the small box he’d fetched while he was giving the flat a last once-over. He had a car parked nearby, but he wasn’t going to be driving. The restaurant Myc had made reservations at wasn’t too far from his place, and he had summoned an Uber. If he were lucky enough to have Myc grant him the pleasure of his company at his flat, Greg didn’t want to have to deal with two vehicles.

Walking into the restaurant, Greg could hardly contain his happiness. It had been a while since he’d felt this strongly about anyone; Myc was special. Really special.

The snooty, jumped up faux Frenchman who showed him to the reserved table half-hidden by swags of velvet pulled out the chair for Greg. But Greg had no eyes for him. He could only drink in the sight of Mycroft, standing elegantly from his chair, eyes warm. “Greg,” he murmured, and they gazed at one another. “That will be all, thank you,” Mycroft said, and they were alone.

“Myc, my god,” Greg breathed, smile breaking out again, “Can’t believe we’re finally here, together.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Mycroft agreed, and they stepped toward one another, and then they were hugging. It was a restrained and publicly acceptable embrace, but they rocked slightly, unwilling to part right away. “You smell marvelous,” Mycroft whispered.

Greg shivered at the brush of his lips on his ear, “It’s new,” he managed, splaying his hand on Mycroft’s side, giving it a little squeeze before he went to move back, “I splurged, wanted to smell good for you.”

“I’m honoured,” Mycroft assured him, winking. He let his fingers brush Greg’s, then gestured at his chair, “Won’t you please sit? I took the liberty of ordering us some champagne.”

“Now I’m the one who’s honoured,” Greg protested, sitting down opposite him at the small table. He immediately reached for Mycroft, who willingly put his hand in Greg’s. Greg gave his hand a tender squeeze, “I’m so happy to finally be sitting here with you...in person.”

“Our chats have been wonderful,” Myc agreed, pouring him some champagne with his free hand. “But I’ve been longing for this.” He paused as Greg pulled the box out of his pocket, eyebrow raising toward his hairline. “My, my,” he said, “Am I to ring Mother?”

Greg snickered, “Give over, you berk,” he teased, “It’s just a little something I wanted to bring you.” He passed the box across the table and watched as Mycroft’s face softened. 

Mycroft looked up from the box, which contained several dozen scraps of paper. “Notes?”

“Wrote one for every day we were apart,” Greg confessed, only a little embarrassed at how soppy he was being. “Just little things I like about you, bits from my days, stuff I wanted to share.”

Myc’s eyes were warm, “Greg, you’re the last of the true romantics.” He sifted his fingers through the papers, “May I save these to read later?”

“Course, yeah,” Greg said, clearing his throat. They sat smiling at one another, fingers twined, until the waiter came to take their order.  _ Is this what falling in love feels like? _ Greg wondered in a daze. His chest didn’t feel big enough to contain his heart.

Dinner was a marvelous dream, a haze of candlelight, champagne and a conversation which veered between serious and lighthearted. Myc was devastatingly sexy, a powerful and witty man, who exuded sensuality but still seemed a bit dazed by Greg’s outrageous flirting.  _ Oh darlin’,  _ Greg thought, gazing at Myc’s candle lit face,  _ I’m gonna take such good care of you. By the time I'm done with you, you won’t know which way is up.  _

Three delirious hours later, Greg wasn’t sure  _ he _ was able to tell which direction was up. Myc was  _ in his lap. _ Hands clutching tight to Greg’s hair,  _ which he loved,  _ and plundering his mouth with his very, very skilled tongue. Very skilled. So skilled. My god. 

Moaning unabashedly, Greg surged up, letting his erection nudge insistently against Myc’s, “My place is close,” he panted, “Tell your driver to break a few speed limits?” They’d barely made it to the car before they were all over one another.

Myc laughed huskily, dragging his lips over Greg’s jaw. “I’ve got diplomatic immunity, we can get there speedily.”

_ Bless diplomatic immunity, _ Greg thought dizzily, stumbling out of the back of Myc’s saloon car, moving awkwardly because of his raging erection. They giggled, bumping into one another as they took the stairs to his floor. “So much for taking it slow,” Greg panted, trying to fit the key into the lock while Mycroft was unfairly groping him, plastered to his back, distracting the hell out of him. He loved it.

“We’ve gotten to know one another very well, I think,” Mycroft purred, biting Greg’s ear lobe. “Over the past two months I’ve learned more about you than I know about my closest friend...as far as I’m concerned, we’re ready to take things to the next level.” As Greg finally got the door opened, Mycroft stepped back, giving Greg space. “Unless you’re feeling pressured,” he said, sounding much calmer. He met Greg’s eyes, “I don’t want to rush this, Greg. You’ve...become incredibly important to me. I’d hate to jeopardize that because of lust.”

Greg couldn’t help smiling, “I appreciate the chivalry, Myc. But I won’t regret a single minute I get to spend with you.”

Mycroft regarded him for a moment, then turned away, causing Greg’s heart to sink to his toes. It soared again a moment later when Mycroft decisively locked the door. He turned to Greg, eyes gleaming, “Now, where was I? Oh yes, about to take you apart, I believe.”

  
  



	3. Domesticating a Wild Greg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg learns just how capable Mycroft is of rocking his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex. That's it. That's the chapter. Enjoy.

Mycroft, with two fingers sliding slickly in and out of Greg, kissed his neck, “Mm, darling, you’re doing so good for me.”   
  


Greg, bent over the bed, whimpered, fingers flexing helplessly in the covers. Mycroft was incredibly patient and attentive; he’d spent ages relaxing Greg, opening his body until Greg was loose and slick, aching to be filled by more than Mycroft’s fingers. “Myc,” he moaned, turning his head to press his hot cheek to the cool blanket. “Please…”

Smoothing his hands over Greg’s arse cheeks, Mycroft pressed soft kisses down his spine. Spreading him with his thumbs, he nudged Greg’s heat with the head of his cock; the mere touch stole Greg’s breath, and he had to remind himself to breathe. As Mycroft pushed forward, Greg bore down, breathing out, concentrating on getting past that initial burn to the glorious feel of being full. He hadn’t had penetrative sex in so long that he’d half-forgotten how overwhelming it was at first.

“Breathe for me,” Mycroft coaxed, stroking his back. “You feel amazing, Greg...how does it feel for you?”

“Too much,” he said breathlessly, giving a choking little laugh, “Not enough.”

Mycroft laughed with him, easing out a little and then thrusting, exquisitely slowly, back in all the way. Greg moaned appreciatively, and Mycroft did it again, pulling out a little farther this time. Greg felt his cock stir beneath him, becoming invested in the proceedings. Biting his lip, he shifted, getting a hand under himself. Cupping his growing erection, he gasped out loud when Mycroft suddenly pulled all the way out and then plunged back inside him, in one deep, thrilling move. Driven forward into his own hand, Greg cried out, shuddering.

Digging his fingers into Greg’s hips, Mycroft kept up a steady pace, driving Greg steadily more mad. “God, Greg,” he purred, “you feel incredible...indescribable.”

“I can…” Greg panted, moaning, “...I can describe it, ah! P-phenomenal.” He whimpered, “Amazing…”

“Overdue,” Mycroft supplied, lying close over him, cheek pressed to Greg’s. He kissed his cheek, nuzzled his ear, “Destined.” Curling his arm under Greg’s body, Mycroft closed his hand over Greg’s, tugging and pulling. His hips kept moving, sleek and fluid and fanning the flames of Greg’s desire. “Mine,” he husked, and bit down on Greg’s ear lobe.

Crying out brokenly, Greg came fiercely, shaking, pressing back against Mycroft’s thrusts. Mycroft fucked him, fast and shallow, calling out his name in a pained voice, before he groaned, coming in long, shuddering waves, fingers leaving bruises on Greg’s hips. Mycroft curled around him, sweat-slicked and furnace-hot. After a few minutes of shallow breathing, he pulled away, brushing a kiss over Greg’s cheek. Pulling carefully free, Mycroft stroked Greg’s flank, “I’ll be right back.” When he returned with a damp flannel, Greg was sprawled face up on the bed, grinning at the ceiling, eyes closed. “This is a welcome sight,” Mycroft chuckled. He crawled up onto the bed next to Greg, who opened his eyes to smile happily at him. Mycroft gave him a lush kiss, sighing into Greg’s mouth, before he cleaned him gently. “I’ll just take care of thi--”

Greg took the flannel out of his hand, flung it in the general direction of the loo and pulled Mycroft close.

“Did you just...throw a spunk covered flannel on the floor?!” Mycroft spluttered.

Greg kissed him, “Uh huh.” He snuggled close, pulling Mycroft’s head to his chest, “Did I give you a terrible disgust of me?” he asked teasingly, putting on a posh accent.

“Terrible,” Mycroft agreed, but nonetheless he wound himself around Greg, inserting one of his gorgeous long, slim legs between Greg’s thighs. He bit Greg’s pec lightly, “I can see I’m going to be kept on my toes, domesticating you.”

  
  



End file.
